As psychologists, we can assure you that Netflix’s hit miniseries “Adolescence” isn’t really about adolescence. Despite its title, the show is not a guide to raising or educating teenagers. It’s a gripping crime drama set in a middle school, where peer bullying contributes to a tragic murder.
While crime dramas typically center on identifying a murderer, “Adolescence” poses a deeper question: Who is responsible for raising and protecting our children? The answers are complex. But what becomes painfully clear is how easily young people can fall through the cracks of adult awareness and intervention.
One key institution is conspicuously absent in the series’ narrative: the school. As details of the bullying emerge, viewers are left wondering: Where were the adult role models in the school? How could such sustained cruelty go unnoticed? Where was the explicit curriculum to prevent bullying?
This omission may serve the show’s dramatic arc, but it also reflects a troubling truth: Even caring adults often struggle to detect and interrupt the harm happening around them. “Adolescence” is not just a drama, it’s a mirror reflecting our collective challenges. From the opening scenes, it refuses the simplistic binary of villain and victim. There are no caricatures, no cartoonish bullies or perfect targets. Instead, it reveals how even “good kids”—those raised with love, boundaries, and bedtime stories—can participate in cruelty that spirals out of control.
The show doesn’t point fingers. It asks us, calmly and insistently, to look more closely.
Research shows that bullying is linked to academic struggles, increased dropout rates, and lower educational attainment. The consequences aren’t abstract—they show up in the tears shed behind bedroom doors, the isolation of lunchrooms, and the quiet gaps between parents, teachers, and students who don’t know how to talk about what’s really going on.
And bullied students aren’t the only ones affected. Roles in bullying are fluid: A student might be an aggressor one day, a victim the next, a bystander the day after. That bystander role—so often ignored—carries its own weight in moral distress, the psychological toll of witnessing harm and not knowing how, or whether, to step in.
Being bullied significantly increases the risk of long-term emotional harm—and, in some cases, violence. According to a 2019 U.S. Secret Service study of school violence, most school shooters were themselves victims of bullying. While every state has laws requiring schools to address bullying, legislation alone isn’t enough.
Bullying isn’t always loud or visible. Sometimes, it’s subtle and strategic—the whisper of exclusion, the isolating glance, the screenshot shared without consent.
It can be physical—shoves in a hallway. Verbal—taunts, slurs, or jokes designed to wound. Relational—manipulation, exclusion, or gaslighting that undermines a child’s sense of reality. And it can be digital. Online cruelty introduces permanence and panic: It follows kids home, glowing from screens long after dark.
Bullying doesn’t emerge in a vacuum. It mirrors the broader culture. Racism, homophobia, ableism, and sexism all find new expression in group chats and hallways. If we fail to confront these underlying forces, we risk treating symptoms rather than root causes.
If “Adolescence” leaves us with one clear truth, it’s this: Emotional health isn’t automatic. It doesn’t grow from good intentions alone. It flourishes when children are raised and learn in environments that actively support their emotional development.
Social and emotional skills must be taught with the same care and consistency as math or literacy. Yet, many schools still prioritize compliance over connection. Decades of research, however, have overturned the myth that social and emotional learning (SEL) and academic achievement are at odds. In fact, the opposite is true: SEL is foundational to learning, strong relationships, and student well-being.
The Collaborative for Academic, Social, and Emotional Learning, or CASEL, defines SEL as the process by which people develop skills to manage emotions, show empathy, build relationships, and make responsible decisions. It’s neither an “extra” nor an indoctrination tool. It’s the infrastructure of healthy human development.
What school leaders can do now:
- Practice emotionally intelligent leadership. This work begins with adults, and the school leaders set the tone for emotionally intelligent culture and decisionmaking. Emotional intelligence can’t be handed off to students—it must be modeled by the adults in their lives. Every stakeholder must practice the very skills we want children to learn: self- and social-awareness, emotion regulation, compassion, and responsible decisionmaking.
- Implement SEL communitywide. Adopt the evidence-based programs supported by research and organizations like CASEL to build skills for all members of the school community. In a culture that favors fast solutions, we’re tempted by one-off training sessions, slick apps, or zero-tolerance policies. But bullying can’t be resolved in an assembly or with a policy. Skill-building is a developmental process. Healing takes time. It depends on trust, on relationships, and on consistent care.
- Respond to bullying behavior with inquiry, not just punishment. When harm occurs, ask: What emotions drove this behavior? How can they be addressed constructively? What does genuine accountability and repair look like?
- Make kindness visible. Celebrate compassion not just as a value but as a daily practice.
Research finds that students in schools with strong SEL programs experience less bullying, fewer behavior problems, and improved academic outcomes. When we invest in students’ emotional well-being, we don’t just help them feel better, we make learning environments safer and better suited to learning.
To truly prevent bullying, SEL must be embedded into the fabric of school life. That means rethinking how we lead, teach, and connect. It means cultivating a school culture where every child and adult feels seen, safe, and valued every day.
“Adolescence” doesn’t offer tidy answers, and, in that way, it’s more honest than most dramas. It leaves us with urgent questions: What if every child were taught how to manage emotions and navigate relationships? What if they felt empowered to stay rooted in their kindness and speak up against cruelty?
